Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 111: Chapter 111
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 111: Chapter 111. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Julian frowned. "What do you want?"
The punks smirked wordlessly and flipped his stall in one violent motion.
Julian's eyes blazed. "Hey! Stop that right now!"
He charged forward in blind bravery, but before his fist found a target, the punks slammed him to the pavement; his assistant stood frozen, too terrified to move.
"Setting up shop here without asking my permission? Who'd buy this worthless junk?" the leader sneered.
Julian Bennett stared, helpless and seething, while the street punks stomped every tablet, phone, and laptop he had brought until screens cracked, circuits splintered, and the devices lay like glittering scraps of trash across the sidewalk; when he lunged forward in rage, they answered with fists and kicks that sent him crashing back to the ground.
Julian roared, "Who the hell do you think you are? Do you have any idea who I am? Ethan, call the police—now!"
Ethan Zen the manager shook so hard the phone nearly slipped from his sweaty fingers, tried to dial but a thug slapped the handset away and sent it skittering across the concrete.
One punk spat, "Show your face around here again and you're dead. Get lost!"
To punctuate the warning, he ground his heel into the back of Julian's hand before swaggering off with the others.
Ethan scrambled over and hauled his boss upright.
"President Bennett, are you hurt?" Ethan asked, voice trembling.
Julian surveyed the wreckage, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped, then slammed a fist against the pavement in helpless fury. He, Julian Bennett, had never suffered humiliation like this.
Elena Bennett was discharged from the hospital today, and Simon Whitmore personally drove her home.
When she stepped into the house, she found Julian Bennett seated in the living room, the whole family clustered around him while Adaline anxiously dabbed ointment on his wounds.
Adaline fumed, "What kind of thugs dare beat someone in broad daylight downtown? Lawrence, you have to drag those hooligans out and make them pay for touching my son!"
Annabelle Bennett glanced toward the door and cried, "Oh—Sis, you're back! Why didn't you tell us you were being discharged so Dad could send someone to pick you up?"
Elena swept her gaze across the room and let it linger on Julian for a moment.
He looked as though someone had worked him over—dark purple bruises mottled his face.
Adaline bustled about, tending every scrape and cut.
Elena blinked, small and quick; even when she had been beaten into the operating room, she had never seen her mother this flustered.
Adaline turned and shot her a glance—silent, yet colder than before.
Elena lingered at the entryway, changed her shoes, and headed straight for her bedroom.
"Stop right there!" Julian roared.
Annabelle darted forward, seized Elena's arm, and snapped, "How can you be so heartless? Your brother's hurt and you don't even ask why!"
Elena answered, her voice icy, "Isn't everyone already fussing over him?"
Annabelle shot back, "Do you even know how he got those injuries?"
Elena remained indifferent and said nothing.
Annabelle barreled on, "Because you're selfish and refuse to clear the rumors, the company's stock is piling up unsold. Brother had to hit the streets to promote sales, and that's when those lowlifes jumped him!"
"In the end he's hurt because of you! How can you be this cold?"
Elena swept the crowd with a frosty gaze. "He beat me until my stomach hemorrhaged and I was hospitalized for days. Where were you then? Did any of you speak up for me?"
Annabelle retorted, "He was only trying to teach you a lesson, but you ignored the bigger picture! Business tanked because of you. Look at this mess—are you finally happy?"
Elena stared her down. "You all know perfectly well who caused this."
Annabelle bit her lip. "Sis, you're still one of us. Shouldn't you share the Bennett family's glory—and its hardships?"
The punks smirked wordlessly and flipped his stall in one violent motion.
Julian's eyes blazed. "Hey! Stop that right now!"
He charged forward in blind bravery, but before his fist found a target, the punks slammed him to the pavement; his assistant stood frozen, too terrified to move.
"Setting up shop here without asking my permission? Who'd buy this worthless junk?" the leader sneered.
Julian Bennett stared, helpless and seething, while the street punks stomped every tablet, phone, and laptop he had brought until screens cracked, circuits splintered, and the devices lay like glittering scraps of trash across the sidewalk; when he lunged forward in rage, they answered with fists and kicks that sent him crashing back to the ground.
Julian roared, "Who the hell do you think you are? Do you have any idea who I am? Ethan, call the police—now!"
Ethan Zen the manager shook so hard the phone nearly slipped from his sweaty fingers, tried to dial but a thug slapped the handset away and sent it skittering across the concrete.
One punk spat, "Show your face around here again and you're dead. Get lost!"
To punctuate the warning, he ground his heel into the back of Julian's hand before swaggering off with the others.
Ethan scrambled over and hauled his boss upright.
"President Bennett, are you hurt?" Ethan asked, voice trembling.
Julian surveyed the wreckage, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped, then slammed a fist against the pavement in helpless fury. He, Julian Bennett, had never suffered humiliation like this.
Elena Bennett was discharged from the hospital today, and Simon Whitmore personally drove her home.
When she stepped into the house, she found Julian Bennett seated in the living room, the whole family clustered around him while Adaline anxiously dabbed ointment on his wounds.
Adaline fumed, "What kind of thugs dare beat someone in broad daylight downtown? Lawrence, you have to drag those hooligans out and make them pay for touching my son!"
Annabelle Bennett glanced toward the door and cried, "Oh—Sis, you're back! Why didn't you tell us you were being discharged so Dad could send someone to pick you up?"
Elena swept her gaze across the room and let it linger on Julian for a moment.
He looked as though someone had worked him over—dark purple bruises mottled his face.
Adaline bustled about, tending every scrape and cut.
Elena blinked, small and quick; even when she had been beaten into the operating room, she had never seen her mother this flustered.
Adaline turned and shot her a glance—silent, yet colder than before.
Elena lingered at the entryway, changed her shoes, and headed straight for her bedroom.
"Stop right there!" Julian roared.
Annabelle darted forward, seized Elena's arm, and snapped, "How can you be so heartless? Your brother's hurt and you don't even ask why!"
Elena answered, her voice icy, "Isn't everyone already fussing over him?"
Annabelle shot back, "Do you even know how he got those injuries?"
Elena remained indifferent and said nothing.
Annabelle barreled on, "Because you're selfish and refuse to clear the rumors, the company's stock is piling up unsold. Brother had to hit the streets to promote sales, and that's when those lowlifes jumped him!"
"In the end he's hurt because of you! How can you be this cold?"
Elena swept the crowd with a frosty gaze. "He beat me until my stomach hemorrhaged and I was hospitalized for days. Where were you then? Did any of you speak up for me?"
Annabelle retorted, "He was only trying to teach you a lesson, but you ignored the bigger picture! Business tanked because of you. Look at this mess—are you finally happy?"
Elena stared her down. "You all know perfectly well who caused this."
Annabelle bit her lip. "Sis, you're still one of us. Shouldn't you share the Bennett family's glory—and its hardships?"
End of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back Chapter 111. Continue reading Chapter 112 or return to Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back book page.